Pierre sent me a picture, telling me that I would be able to interpret it to its real value. I was touched by the attention. He was somewhat acknowledging what I had been able to bring to him since we met, a touch of transcendent poetry in which I often enjoy getting involved. If I was able to sow in him this dose of wonder, I am pleased about it.
Time may be, at the end of the day, just a long corridor immobilized in the matter, a train with no head or tail. The matter is slower than our humble steps. We run, dance, frolic, having no echoes but this silence higher than our natures, more immense than our hopes, just as profound as our ignorance.